A/N: Hello, everyone! I'm finally back(ish)!
I can't believe it took me this long to finally get into this story. I've had it in my head for so damn long, but things in real life have been SO busy and I just didn't have the time nor the energy to finally invest in it. But I think this time I got this! Though I'm not sure yet of the consistency of updates, I might start doing it twice a week or not posting at all for weeks - I'm taking a maternity leave half January, but most of the story is already written, so my (very ambitious) plan is to have it done before the baby comes. Pray with me that I can pull that off! lol
Anyway, this multi-chapter will be 15 chapters long, mature though not with explicit smut (unfortunately; what the hell is wrong with me?), in a modern muggle setting, entirely from Lily POV. I know most readers usually like to see both POVs but I honestly enjoy much more focussing on only one perspective, it makes everything more complicated and the angst bigger hehe I did just post a one-shot from James POV that can be read independently (''Shrike'') but I recommend reading it again after chapter 10 of this fic. Just to try and understand a little bit more of where he's coming from. Because the James of this story is not like the Jameses I usually write; here, we'll see him in a scenario where he didn't have any wake-up calls (such as the Whomping Willow incident or his insecurities about his future and the pressure of his parents in Growing(in love)), so it's how he would look like if he stayed his privileged, entitled self. Fair warning, James will be a slimy little prick for most of this story, until he finally falls for Lily and learns how to be better than that. But it's a long way there, so get ready to hate him a little bit. I know I did, and I absolutely loved that lol
I hope you enjoy the fic! I know I'm loving to write something so different from everything I've done so far!
P.s: every chapter of this story will feature one song (whose lyric, a sentence of it, will be the title). I have a Spotify playlist, but I can't seem to copy and paste it here. So I'll tell in the beginning of every chapter what's the song. For this one, it's of course From Eden (the whole inspiration for this), by the god-among-men Hozier.
P.s(2): as usual, many thanks to my favourite (and only) beta, Chestnut1992, who is always down to berate disgusting men with me, to recommend new fics when I'm feeling uninspired, and just overall being the best online bsf I could ask for S2
Chapter 1: Idealism sits in prison
The world before him was a simpler place.
I've always been a rather simple woman. My life was as enjoyable as it was plain. I grew up in a small town in the midlands of England, daughter to a humble plumber and a local nurse, sister to a boring housewife-to-be. I went to primary and secondary schools in the same neighbourhood and spent every summer never farther than Carlisle. Not one to have ambitious dreams of making it big, I nevertheless wanted to be someone. I worked hard after school hours and following a stressful, exhausting year I got accepted into the University of York to study Law. Uni was uneventful, with focus and fun in equal measure. I had a couple of boyfriends, went to a couple of campus parties, met a couple of amazing friends. The years passed as they always did with me: not too dull, not too interesting. Upon graduation, I immediately enrolled in the Legal Practice Course to become a solicitor and took my two years' apprenticeship under Slughorn & Associates. When my training contract came to an end, I got hired by the same firm, where I remain to this day. The pay is fair, allowing me to live somewhat comfortably in the middle of expensive London, where the office is located. I'm able to take care of my bills living alone in a small but cosy flat and to take brief holiday trips every now and then with the girls or to visit my hometown for Christmas and even sometimes during summer to spend a week with my mum and dad.
All in all, a simple life.
And I was completely at peace with it. I never fancied a glamorous lifestyle, adventurous getaways or a world-shattering romance. I liked structure and a certain predictability to my routine. I enjoyed coming home to silence and curling up on my favourite settee with a warm herbal tea in hands and Love Island on the screen. I had fun eating Sunday brunches with my closest girlfriends but also sleeping in, only leaving the bed to cook a very-late lunch for myself. I rang my parents every other weekend to chat and Petunia, my dreadful sister, once a month and mainly to hear from my five-year-old nephew. I secretly downloaded TikTok and spent too many hours laughing silly at cats and babies' videos. My work kept me busy most hours of the day and the rest of it was filled with social medias, Netflix shows and some light dating.
I was happy with my enjoyable, plain life.
Until him.
And it was all Lizzie's fault. I still remember the day we met at Barrio for brunch on an unsuspecting Sunday of March. I remember wearing the crimson dress I had just bought at a second-hand store the previous afternoon and all the compliments I got from the girls when they saw me in it. I remember how we chatted for about twenty minutes before Marlene looked intrigued at Elizabeth, questioning her uncharacteristic quietness. I remember only realising then how silent Lizzie had been. And I remember the moment the brunette gave us a sheepish, yet content, smile and recounted how she had just met the most fascinating man.
Sirius Black.
I remember holding a snort at the pompous name. The good friend I am, I listened dutifully to Elizabeth telling with bright blue eyes how they had spent the weekend together after bumping into each other in a random pub when she was out with fellow models. I remember how excited she looked and how certain she sounded that this was something special.
It was. After the first meeting, Lizzie and Sirius were inseparable and it was a surprise to nobody when they finally made it official. They were boyfriend and girlfriend, and as first measure they wanted their friends to meet. It took a while but at last they managed to find a date when everyone seemed to be available, and the rendezvous was scheduled for a Friday night halfway through June, at a bar that apparently was just a few streets away from where Sirius and his mates lived.
I also remember smirking lightly at the information. First the name, now a residence at Covent Garden. I knew then he must be posh. And probably so were his friends.
Trying not to give in to prejudices, I pushed the preconceived notions out of my brazen brain and got ready to meet the boyfriend of one of my best friends and his mates with an open mind. I finished work around six o'clock that evening, having just enough time to go home for a quick dinner and a shower before taking the underground to meet everyone at the chosen location.
And so did the world become a less simple place.
The Nags Head.
I throw my red locks out of my face so I can open the door to the pub. I'm running a bit late, but fortunately the tube station was literally on the other side of the pedestrian street where the bar stood. Despite the later hour, my summer dress clings uncomfortably to my skin while I walk hurriedly, sweat accumulating in the most unwelcome spots. I take a deep breath before crossing the threshold. The day has been tiring enough, the amount of work before a weekend always bordering on the unbearable, and my mood is far from ideal to spend the entire evening playing nice with people I've never seen before.
And especially posh people.
I huff when this thought occurs to me and berate myself internally, again pushing away the impatience with the fact that Elizabeth just couldn't go and find herself an average man from Brixton or any other place south of London, which would make my life much easier or, at least, the commute time shorter. I tell myself, once more, that I haven't met them yet and perhaps Sirius is indeed a great bloke and I will love him instantly, like Lizzie did.
Well, not exactly like Lizzie did, and does, but enough to approve him for her. Granted, Elizabeth does not have the best track record when it comes to her taste in men, but I suppose that comes with the job. Being that pretty and unavoidably surrounded by people as pretty, drowned in money, parties and fame, it's no wonder that she would be a tad susceptible to bad decisions. Luckily, her missteps are limited to arseholes of men and not other regrettable behaviours. Lizzie is quite down to earth, all things considered.
So this Sirius Black had better be good for her.
With this mindset, and an almost-genuine smile plastered on my face, I waltz inside, clutching the strap of my leather purse on one shoulder, the other hand making way for me through the crowd that already swarms the place. I need to twist my neck a few times from side to side until I find them.
The first ones I recognise are Cassandra and Marlene, as usual wrapped around each other. Even though they have been dating since uni, they prefer to have their own space. When asked why they just don't move in together, they shrug and simply say that this works better for them. It certainly appears to, if one considers how affectionate they are with each other whenever they can and how little they argue, although their relationship is almost reaching the decade-long mark. Apparently, seeing one another only a couple of times a week indeed does the trick to make their passion never wane.
Ergo, they're always joined by the hip whenever there's an outing, such as presently. Taking another few steps, I see some guys I don't know sitting by the same large wooden table on the right corner, surely Sirius' friends, and then finally Lizzie. She stands with her back to me, talking to a tall bloke with dark, thick hair and square spectacles that adorn a long nose. He grins widely at her, and I have to admit he is gorgeous. Not as much as Lizzie is, but quite enough to make me drop my eyes shamelessly to check out every inch of his nice, fit body. He is slim but has large shoulders and strong hands that gesture around excitedly as he speaks. His eyes, something around the corner of a hazel, spark brightly, making him more attractive than he should be.
Those same eyes suddenly shift when I move ahead again, locking with mine. He keeps talking, but his gaze is on me as I kill the distance and approach Elizabeth.
- Sorry I'm late, Lizzie.
My friend swirls around, already smiling.
- Lily! You're here!
The brunette crushes me in a tight hug, stepping back after a moment as her hands hold me still by the elbows. And then, as per habit, she looks me up and down approvingly.
- You look divine. I love this dress on you.
I smile too, putting my own hands on her to squeeze lightly. Despite always being the most beautiful of any room she's in, Lizzie has the talent of making anyone feel pretty. Her kind eyes find beauty wherever she looks, especially in her best friends. And she is not shy of being vocal about it.
- Thanks, babe – I reply, mirthful. It's so easy to be friends with her. She never fails to make people feel good and so should any boyfriend of hers repay the favour in double. I draw my eyes away from her to zero on the man in front of us, who is even more gorgeous from up close. I extend a friendly hand. – You must be Sirius. It's nice to finally meet you, I've heard so much.
- Oh no, silly – Lizzie laughs by my side. – That's not Sirius. – She bends her slender body over the table to hook a hand around another guy's wrist, pulling him to stand. – This is Sirius!
The bloke goes around the table, coming behind Elizabeth with a smirk and a wandering hand on her hip. He is even taller than the first man and objectively more handsome.
In spite of them being together for a few months now, I haven't seen any pictures of Lizzie's boyfriend before and not for a lack of trying. For the past many weeks, the girls and I have filled her with requests to see what that fascinating man of hers looks like, always getting the same response – ah, we don't have any pics, I suppose we're too caught in the moment when we're together to even think about these superficial things!
Rolling my eyes was an imperative whenever I'd hear that. For someone who makes a living out of taking pictures of herself, Elizabeth can surely act airy when it comes to the practicalities of life. I mean, who doesn't immediately show an entire photo album of the bloke they're shagging to their girlfriends during a mandatory three-hour session going over every single detail of the man's body and the sex they have together?
Marlene, knowing her best friend too well, never bothered, neither did Cassandra. But I, the only other straight woman of the group, missed these girly talks terribly.
So, in sum, I had no blame in mixing the blokes and not knowing which was the one with whom Lizzie was madly in love.
But now, seeing him, it makes dead sense.
Sirius Black also has dark hair, but his is long and falling in waves over his shoulders, giving him a rock star vibe. His eyes are of a piercing blue, so light they're almost grey, and he is tall and slender like Elizabeth. As a matter of fact, everything in him is similar to my friend. I wouldn't say they look alike, but they certainly share a lot of physical characteristics. He could easily be a model too.
But I recall Elizabeth telling me he was a photographer. That he came from money, which allowed him to open his own company while very young and keep him afloat for the first rough couple of years. That now he was very demanded by the cosmetic and beauty industry.
A photographer! And they haven't got any bloody pictures of the two together. How exasperating is that?
I guess he must be as airy as she is.
Still, I smile broadly.
- Oh, of course! Nice to meet you, Sirius, I'm Lily.
He shakes my hand, the same smirk still playing on his lips.
- Likewise. Lizzie talks constantly about her hotshot solicitor friend.
- I bet she does – I chuckle, giving my pretty friend a little pinch on the belly. – She's always praising me much more than I deserve.
- Ha, as if! You deserve all the praise in the world. – She turns to her boyfriend, displacing his hardly-innocent hand with one swift movement. – Have I told you about the time she went toe-to-toe with the CEO of Unilever? She killed him in court!
- It wasn't in court, Lizzie, I told you that. It was-
- Oi, Evans! Nice to see you too. Remember your other friends from uni?
I purse my mouth as I spin on my heels. Marlene has a brow quirked in my direction, staring at me with all her usual sassiness.
I frown my forehead in faux-pensiveness.
- Oh, wait. It's coming to me. – I tap one finger on my chin. – Did we share a module or something like that?
- Piss off, you wank – Marlene drawls, standing up and pulling me forward to her waiting arms. – I haven't seen you in what feels like ages.
I pat her back, letting out a laugh.
- It's been three weeks, Marley.
- Exactly, ages.
- Hi, babes. – Cassandra is the next one to get a hold of me, when I finally disentangle myself from my blonde friend. – How's it going?
- Good – I reply, kissing her twice in the cheeks. – Busy week at work. You?
- Same.
Cassie has been working with Amnesty International for almost four years now, on the team garnering investment and sponsors. It's not the easiest job.
She opens her mouth to elaborate, but Lizzie takes the lead, interrupting her.
- Before you go on for hours about all the woes of your workplaces, – she chirps, gentle voice softening the sharpness of the words, in a way that only Elizabeth can – let me introduce you to everyone first, Lil. This is Peter and Remus.
She points to the two guys sitting opposite to Marlene and Cassandra. Both of them get to their feet to greet me.
The first one is the shortest of the four of them while the second one is the tallest. They have the same colour of hair, a dirty blond, and light brown eyes, but the Remus one has a paler composition, cheeks a bit withered, which gives him an air of perpetual exhaustion. The other one, Peter, on the contrary, has a chubby, rosy face and a perky nose that makes him look like a fluffy hamster.
I stifle a giggle at the mental comparison, hurrying to hold the hands they stretch at me.
- Nice to meet you. I'm Lily Evans.
- Hi, Peter Pettigrew.
- Remus Lupin.
- And this, as already clarified, is not Sirius – Elizabeth moves on with a chuckle, turning back to where the fit bloke and her boyfriend stand on my side of the table. – This is James. Though with the amount of time these two spend together, I'd say it's not that big of an issue if they get mixed up every now and then.
The two men seem to find the statement funny, laughing along and exchanging amused glances.
On the next beat, though, the bespectacled hottie takes one smooth step forward, lacing his hand with mine before I even notice he's moving. Sending a crooked smile my way, he gets close to me.
Very close.
- A pleasure to meet you, Evans – he says in a low, deep voice, and I'm not sure if it's the use of my surname or how he stares at me with intense hazel eyes, but I feel suddenly swept over.
Many seconds go by with our gazes locked and only by using my lawyer skills do I manage to recover from the moment, giving him a practiced, though belated, smile.
- You too, James. – Tilting my head, I hold on to his hand a while longer. – Sorry, I didn't get your last name.
His crooked grin turns even more crooked.
- Potter. James Potter.
- Hm – I hum, letting go of his warm, calloused palm, but maintaining the short distance that separates us. – Like Bond, James Bond?
He nods, in all seriousness.
- Yes. We're actually distant cousins. I'm sure you can tell that by the similar good looks.
A loud snort takes my attention off him for the first time in several minutes, and I glance away to see Sirius, and the rest of the group, apparently having a blast watching our little interaction.
Willing myself not to blush, I take the easy way out, stepping back and turning to Elizabeth.
- Thanks for organising this, Lizzie. It's a nice place you got here.
- It is, isn't it? – She beams, shifting in her heels and indicating the seat next to hers for me to take. – I've been here before already, uh, what? Four times?
- Five if you count tonight, love – Sirius comes to her aid. He sits back down on the other side of the table, next to short Peter. He looks at me as he explains – This pub's like a second home to us. We've been coming here since before uni.
- Really? So you lads know each other for a long time, I'm gathering?
- Yeah, since primary. The four of us attended the same boarding school.
- How cool is that? – Lizzie pitches in, casting me an enthusiastic look.
- Very cool – I agree, diplomatically. From the corner of my eyes, I see the fit bloke–James, his name's James– chuckle at my reply and I force myself to do a better job, infusing in my voice a tone of genuineness. – Where did you all go to school?
- You won't know it, it's in Scotland.
- Oh? So far away.
- Yeah. – Sirius rolls his eyes lightly. – You know snobbish, wealthy people. They're always eager to jump on the new trend of the day if it will set them apart from other snobbish, wealthy people.
He says it with such condescension that I can't help but laugh, liking him a bit more because of it.
- So as I suspected, you're all very posh – I conclude, honestly inclined to change my preconceived notions. They might come from money, but that doesn't necessarily mean they're all haughty arses. Sirius has already given signs of disdain for his uppity origins.
- Lily, please, show some respect – the tallest of them, Remus, is the one to answer my question, but he sports a friendly grin. His head jerks towards Sirius and James' direction. – The only posh ones here are them, Peter and I come from very humble families, thank you very much.
- Aha, I knew I liked the two of you more than the others for some reason – I shoot back, cheeky. Sometimes I can't stop myself, my tongue is faster than my brain. I guess it's those same lawyer skills that never leave me alone, even if I'm just meeting new people for the first time, people with whom I have no intimacy and, therefore, of which I should not be making fun.
But apparently this group of people doesn't care in the least. Conversely, they seem to find me hilarious.
- As you should – short Peter comments, as everyone laughs. – We're the better half of The Marauders, there's no doubt of it.
- Of the what?
- Oh, that's how they call themselves. Since they were wee boys – Elizabeth jumps in to elucidate, once more appearing very excited, as if everything concerning her new boyfriend is simply too brilliant. – When they were at boarding school, they got up to the craziest shenanigans together. You should hear them retell the tales, Lily, it's to die for, but yeah, that's how they were known by everybody around, you know, because they were always up to no good. And I guess the name stuck, so their group actually has an official name. Cool, right?
In the millisecond before I offer a response to this piece of information, I exchange a glance with Cassandra, who looks like she's having even more trouble than me controlling her sneer at the absurdity, and the sheer ridiculousness, of what Elizabeth just told us.
I clear my throat, looking briefly around to the four blokes in my best attempt at neutrality.
- Very cool – I manage to say again, nodding my head gravely.
Another chuckle rings from the other side of me, and it's James again. He regards me as if he knows exactly how uncool I find them all to be, and I don't stifle my own chuckle anymore. Our gazes hold one another once more until somebody calls out my name and I find myself repeating the oh-so-very-boring but mandatory dance of whenever you meet new people - what do you do for a living, where are you originally from, how do you like living in London, and so on and on.
Within the hour, I learn more about The Marauders than I'd actually care for.
I'm told that they are all from London, albeit from different parts of town. Sirius and James, coming from the incredibly wealthy and powerful Black and Potter families, were born in Highgate and Knightsbridge, respectively. They couldn't be born with more of a silver spoon on their mouth even if they tried. Remus and Peter, on the other hand, come from the South, in small and poorer neighbourhoods I haven't heard much from. They met at the Scottish boarding school in Year 6 and instantly became best friends, never leaving each other's side from that moment on. That's why when they returned to London after school was over to decide on the next step, they all went to the same university, King's College, though in distinct undergraduate programmes.
I find out that Remus is getting his Ph.D. in English Literature, Peter works at a chemistry lab, and Sirius dropped uni halfway through once he received a huge inheritance from a distant rich uncle dying and leaving all his money to him, which allowed the boy to finally tell his uptight, disgusting family – his words, not mine – to go eat grass. That's when he founded his own photography company in Covent Garden. One by one, his best mates followed him there after they graduated, and they currently live in the same building.
Ignoring the obvious red flags of co-dependence I spot in this very unusual group of friends, what secures my attention as the night surfs by is that I don't hear much from James except what the other lads talk about him. I can feel his presence on my left side, just past Elizabeth, and our eyes meet rather often. I get the impression he's watching me but he doesn't engage, only when someone directs a question or a remark towards him, and he just laughs it off with a friendly, cordial energy. As the hours pass, I grow insistently aware of his proximity, especially after Lizzie decides she's far too distant from her boyfriend and gets up to remedy that, bringing a chair with her to sit next to him and leaving a large space open beside me.
Without missing a beat, James drags his own chair right to my side.
I look over at him and the smile he offers has me suddenly weak in the knees.
- So… – he starts, voice again low and deep. – On a scale of one to ten, how lame do you find The Marauders to be? Be honest.
A laughter spills from me even when I try to contain it by biting my lower lip, and I don't miss the way his eyes follow the movement. I shake my head, trying to keep it quiet so nobody else joins the conversation.
- Can't it be eleven? Nah, I'm joking, you guys are fine.
- Yeah, I could clearly tell you think we're great by the way you and your other friend looked at each other like you'd find diving at the Thames a better activity to do right now than learning one more thing about us.
- Well, it is a warm evening.
- Fair. The river must be rather refreshing at the moment.
- And I always enjoyed night swims.
- This dress certainly will not be an impediment to it.
- Very strategic of me, I know. And you guys are very lame.
He laughs, something so agreeable I find myself accompanying him, watching as his eyes wrinkle at the corners with the motion. He sits on his chair as if there's no other place he'd rather be. His posture is relaxed, a sort of comfort that makes me feel comfortable.
- I can't argue with you there, Evans. But, in my defence, from what I've heard and seen so far, you're the most interesting bird in this pub, so it's no wonder we sound lame compared to you. – This time I think I blush, but he doesn't show signs of noticing. He looks at me with the intensity I'm starting to associate with him, giving me the impression that his entire focus is devoted to me and nothing or no one else. – Tell me, how does it feel to look this good while also possessing a huge brain and such a sharp sense of humour? It must be exhausting being so near perfection all the time.
- Jesus Christ! – I bawl, flushed red half of shyness and half of exasperation. – Take it easy, man. No need to come on that strong.
He laughs again and I follow, flustered, shaking my head in disbelief with the line he just threw at me.
- Alright, alright. Sorry. I'll behave. – His smile recedes to an easy grin. – Let's start over. Do tell, how did you meet Elizabeth and the girls? I heard something about uni, is that right? – Before I can reply, he wiggles his eyebrows to me, winking conspiratorially. – How's that? Better?
I chuckle with his theatrics, pursing my mouth as if in annoyance, although I feel giddier at each second I spend by his side.
I hide the butterflies in my stomach with the poker face I've mastered long ago.
- Yes, A+ for effort. – He snorts in return, and I proceed to finally answer the question. – Erm, yeah, I met the girls at uni. All of them. We all went to the University of York, but unlike The Marauders, – I lace the name with sarcasm, prompting another snort from him – we met there by accident, since we come from different parts of England. We also did different courses, but we were placed in the same dorm so that's how we became such good friends.
- That's cool. And then you all just came to London? Also by accident or…?
- Mhm, I think it just happened that way. Like, just naturally. Lizzie and Marley are from here, so it made sense they would come back after graduation, and I got hired by a firm located in Kensington, so that's why I came. The only one who wasn't sure was Cassie, but since we were all moving here and she certainly didn't want to go long distance with her girlfriend, she followed us. She was unemployed at the time, but fortunately she found a really good job soon after. – I give him a lopsided smile. – And that's the story of how our group came to be. And, to be quite frank, much more interesting than The Marauders' one.
- Is that so?
- Oh, definitely. And we, as a group, are much more interesting as well.
- Pray tell. - His lips twitch as he encourages me to go on.
I shift slightly on my seat, arranging my hair to not fall on my face while I put forward my substantiated arguments.
- First of all, let me start by saying you're all very average. I mean, I heard what Elizabeth said about your lot getting in trouble in school, but honestly? – I shrug, pushing past the urge to snicker at the way his jaw dropped indignantly with the use of the word "average." – That barely makes up for the fact that, in the end, you and your mates are still four straight white men from London. If it wasn't for the slightly different eye and hair colours and the money thing, I wouldn't be able to tell any of you apart.
His ajar mouth lets out a revolted huff, which only spurs me on.
- My group of friends, on the other hand, is much more diverse and cool. We have one black woman, – I lift one finger, starting to list all the amazing attributes the girls have that the boys don't – one ginger, one lesbian, one bi and one literal model, who's prettier than all the four of you combined. And probably more than the three of us combined, too – I add as an afterthought. I look over at him once more, already grinning about what I'm about to say, and gesture to his spectacles. – The best you can argue for your group is that one of you is half blind, surely in an effort to try and spice it up.
He blinks and then throws his head backwards to laugh spiritedly at my jab at him. As it's becoming a habit, I laugh along with him because there isn't one action of his that doesn't scream infectious. His shoulders shake in humour, and I take the moment to let my eyes wander lazily over his delicious features, across his strong chin and chiselled cheekbones, through his thick black eyebrows and alight eyes. Ending on the full lips that stretch in laughter, I recompose myself.
- So, in conclusion, your honour, – I drawl, solemnly – I would argue that my friends and I are much more deserving of an official group name than these four lame boys. I rest my case.
He's still chuckling by the time I stop talking, nodding his head in agreement.
- You know what? I'm sold. If you want, I'll let you have The Marauders. I'm sure the lads will agree after they hear the compelling case you make.
- Nah, thanks. I'm pretty sure with a little bit of time I can come up with a much cleverer name.
He laughs again.
- Honestly, at this point, I don't know if I should be deeply insulted by every word that comes out of your mouth or deeply in love.
Every single organ I have inside of me jolts at this. I feel my breath catch at my throat and any retort I might have had ready quickly dies at the tip of my tongue. I only manage a half-hearted chuckle before glancing down timidly, grateful that my hair chooses this moment to fall away once again and mercifully cover my flushed face. Before I can recover though, James' fingers find my red strands and tuck them behind my left ear, and I have no choice but to look back at him.
- You're as beautiful when you're shy as when you're cheeky.
I don't say anything to that, neither do I think I'd be able to even if I tried. My eyes are glued to his and I can hear my heart beat thunderously against my chest. At a loss for words, I minutely realise I've never felt this way before. Sure, I've been in love a few times in my life, ranging from platonic crushes to steady boyfriends. I've flirted my way through my teenage years and uni, and I've always been rather good at banter. And I still am, considering the past many minutes of easy conversation between the two of us. I'm no newbie to this whole back-and-forth game of meeting someone attractive and teasing each other almost as foreplay. I can tell he's keen and so am I, and that's a situation I've found myself in several times before, which usually leads to a variation of short to mid-term dating.
And yet, no other time have I felt so thrown off balance like I feel at the moment. If this was just another ordinary meet-cute, I wouldn't be so rattled by the way he leans into my space, looking deep inside my eyes as if searching for something. Or by the way his mouth curls up in amusement, as if finding my unguarded reaction to his flirting adorable. Or by the way his mere presence by my side lights up a fire inside of me that I don't remember ever experiencing before.
I don't know what it is about him, but as much as I want, I can't deny he's no ordinary man and this is no ordinary meeting. I have the strangest feeling, just then, that this is it.
That he is it.
Completely unsettled as this realisation assaults me, I frantically look for something to distract me from the sudden heaviness in my soul.
- Erm, so – I clear my throat, straightening in the seat to put some very needed distance between us. His hand leaves my hair to fall limply on his side. – Uh, what is again that you do for a living? I don't think I caught that.
He smirks, and I know he finds my abrupt change of topic adorable.
- I haven't mentioned it. I work at Sleekeazy as office manager of their London branch.
- You mean Sleekeazy, the cosmetic company? Wow, that's pretty awesome. What exactly do you do as office manager?
- Nothing you'd find very interesting – he replies with a tilt of head that tells me he's recalling how I called him (well, not him but his group of friends) lame and average. I smile knowingly in return. - It's mainly administrative stuff and making sure the office doesn't run out of supplies and shit. It's definitely nothing as cool as being a gorgeous solicitor from a hotshot Law firm in the city.
My cheeks turn slightly pink once more, despite myself, but I don't let it paralyse me again.
- Self-deprecation doesn't look good on you, Potter. And stop trying to charm me the entire bloody time. – Before he can respond to that, I carry on. – So which degree did you get at uni? Management or something like that?
- Yeah, Business Management.
- Hm, so you're right where you wanted to be, yeah?
A slow grin takes over his handsome face.
- Oh, certainly. I'm exactly where I want to be.
I've never flirted with someone like I'm flirting with James Potter. Although, at this point, I'm not so sure is just flirting anymore. There's no pretence to it, no acting coy or trying to look cool to each other as it normally happens during racy chats with someone you just met. We do tease one another frequently – me taking the piss of his weird group of friends who still give themselves a pet name as if they haven't yet gotten through Year 6, and him loudly declaring that my beauty is just a cover for my dangerous, feisty tongue - but there's no subterfuges to it, no artifices.
It's all in the open and it ruffles me.
I have never met anyone like him in my life. It's like he has no shame or feelings of self-consciousness whatsoever, confidently leading the conversation around the table with ease and boldly making move after move on me, as if we've known each other for twenty years instead of twenty seconds. I clap back as much as I can, trying to take the whole situation in good fun, but as the evening turns into late night, I grow eager to have him to myself. I relish the moments it's just the two of us, when the rest of our friends are otherwise busy, and our bodies automatically turn to each other and our voices lower without noticing. I cherish the intensity of his gorgeous eyes and his knowing smirks.
I enjoy our banter more than I ever enjoyed one before. Being a generally no-nonsense person, I've always found it to be a very delicate balance between entertaining pickup lines and straight-up bullshit. Men usually tend more to the latter, and I never had much patience for it. I've never fancied participating in games better suitable for adolescents, in which you have to hold your cards close to your chest and never let the other one know what you really mean. As a rule, I always stayed away from players for that very reason, and it has served me just right. I might not have many over-the-top romantic stories to tell, but I don't mind it in the least. It has never been a goal in my life and it has worked wonders to protect my heart from disillusion.
But this, right here, is something else. James is so open, so genuine, and his interest in me rings so unapologetic, that I can't help myself but wanting him more than I remember ever wanting someone. There's just something in him that draws me and tonight I'm willing to find out exactly what.
I lose track of the time as my night is consumed by him. I barely exchange meaningful words with my friends and by the way Cassandra peers at me, she knows damn well what's going on. She doesn't judge me though, aware that I'm not one to often give all my attention to random men, and instead she winks occasionally in my direction, as if approving my unspoken plans.
All of which involves taking the tube across the street with James directly to my flat, where I intend to show him the entire night just how much of an effect he has on me. By the way his gaze frequently grazes my bare legs or gets stuck on my lips when I'm speaking, I get the feeling he must be privy to those plans.
Before that, though -
With only one quick lift of brow, I excuse myself to go to the loo and less than thirty seconds later, Cassandra joins me.
- Holy fucking shit, things are getting heated in this pub!
I laugh at her fanning of hands, staring at both of our reflections in the mirror.
- Tell me about it.
- Are you taking him home?
Another lift of brow is answer enough.
- Alright. I'll sleep at Marls tonight, then.
- What? Why? It's not like we're roommates, you can go to your own apartment, Cassie. There's nothing stopping you.
- Yeah, but we always take the tube back together. If you're going with him, then I'll have to take it at another time, so I just prefer to go to Marlene's instead of going home alone.
I shrug, fluffing my hair and removing a small smudge of mascara from the corner of my right eye.
- Up to you. I'm not sure how much longer we'll take anyway.
- Have you invited him already?
- Not yet. – I smirk, smug. – 'Bout to do it now. Just getting the right looks before I lay it on thick.
Cassandra chuckles at my choice of words, coming behind me to pinch at my hip.
- As if you need to improve anything in your appearance to look even more stunning. Come on, babe, it's time you go and get your man.
I laugh again and follow her out of the restroom. In fewer than three steps I realise my plans might have to be partially readjusted. James is no longer sitting by my side; he's currently next to Sirius, across the table, seemingly in deep conversation. Taking his place is Remus, who smiles pleasantly at me as I take my chair again.
I return the smile, swallowing my disappointment.
- Hey. How is it going?
- Great, how about you, Lily? Having a good night so far?
- Yes, definitely. It's a very nice place you got here.
Have I said that before?
- It is – Remus agrees, looking around the saloon of the bar with a content sigh. – We started coming here during summer breaks in secondary school, whenever we were back in London. It was the first time we used fake IDs. I still can't believe they even let us in, we were clearly not old enough.
I chuckle, adapting my expectations and focussing on the man in front of me.
- They certainly knew it, they simply didn't care. It's all about the money you bring, you know.
- Yeah, that's true – he laughs. – But back then we thought we looked so cool and old, so we were sure that the bouncer believed that four teenagers filled with pimples in their faces were twenty years old.
- Twenty? Didn't you guys even try to make it more believable, like eighteen?
- Nah, we were confident we could pull it off.
I shake my head, laughing at the mental image of the four twits roaming around London as if they owned the city.
- Well, you certainly did.
- We did. And look at us now, almost fifteen years later and it's like nothing has changed. – He pauses, a thought occurring to him, before looking back at me and then at Elizabeth, across from us, with a grin. – Actually, some things did.
I follow his eyes to see that Lizzie and Sirius are back at being lovesick puppies with each other and, even from a distance, I can see the happiness shining through every pore of my friend.
I sigh.
My preconceived notions are shot to hell by now. Even though I'm far from saying I know Sirius and whether he's indeed a good guy for Elizabeth or not, I have to admit that I've never seen her looking so happy with a man before. They're obviously a good fit, and there's no one who could say otherwise.
- So… - Remus' voice infiltrates my brief reverie, pulling me back to reality. – Is he approved?
I purse my lips in a failed attempt to contain my amusement at being caught like that.
- Jury's still out – I say, although I don't mean it. After a moment, I grin at the brown-haired bloke. – I'm kidding, he's alright. And he obviously makes her happy and that's all that matters.
- They're good together – Remus concurs, letting his gaze find the couple again while mine finds James.
He winks at me from the other side of the table and wild butterflies flutter in my stomach. I smile in return, hoping for an opportunity for him to find his way back to me but it doesn't happen. Remus is a nice lad, and I don't want to be rude to him and disregard what he's saying, so after a while of me not giving him attention James just gets to his feet and moves to the bar counter behind me. I can't see him from the position I'm in, so I redouble my focus on the friendly man by my side and ignore my instincts to go immediately after James. The minutes drag, not per se boring, since Remus is rather lovely, but my body can't help but long to be close to James again. After drowning my urges for as long as I can, I discreetly turn my neck to try and get a glimpse of him, who still hasn't come back to the table, but I can't see anything. Unwilling to make a fuss about it, I let it go for the moment, telling myself that at some point we will converge to each other once more.
When I take the last sip of my cocktail, I finally find the excuse I've been looking for. Telling Remus I'll be right back, I stand up to go to the bar. I see Cassandra staring at me with a wide-eyed expression I don't understand but can't be arsed to bother right now. I have one objective in mind and that is to find James again. It has probably been around an hour since we last talked and I just want to go home with him. It's more than about time.
I walk to the counter of the pub, not even pretending not to look for him anymore. My head twists from side to side, but I don't spot him anywhere. I reach the flat surface and need only to wait a few seconds before a young bartender comes to take my drink. I order a small mojito, not planning on staying much longer in the bar. The lad is just gone to make my cocktail when I finally catch sight of James.
He's walking past me, not seeming to notice my presence, and I call him to get his attention.
- Hey!
- Oh, hey.
We trade smiles and it's like no time passed at all.
- So long no see – I say, unable to hold in a bright grin.
- Too long, really – he replies readily, matching my energy for a beat before glancing to the table where our friends sit. He lifts his arm and waves, assumingly to Sirius. His friend raises his eyebrows, attention secured, and James points to the exit, then to his phone. Sirius apparently understands what he means, taking out his own mobile to check the screen. Before he can react to whatever he sees there though, James turns back to me. – I'm actually leaving now. But it was really nice to meet you, Evans.
My forehead scrunches of its own accord.
- Leaving?
- Yeah, something came up.
My brain slowly tries to make sense of what he's telling me. The confusion brought by his sudden change in attitude, the fleetingly ridiculous thought that he means that he's leaving with me, the disappointment that the night might be over just like that – all of that swirls in my head during the full three seconds it takes before a woman appears behind James, placing a hand on his biceps and a sensual smile on her face.
- I'm ready. Shall we?
- We shall – James replies, turning to me with his crooked smile. – See you later, Evans.
And then he spins on his heels, taking the woman's hand and marching to the doors of The Nags Head, leaving me flabbergasted behind.